HalfLife 2: The Beginning
by Michael 6 Echo
Summary: Assuming the GMan never took Gordon after the events on Xen. My depiction of the aftermath of the unfortunate events that fateful day in New Mexico.
1. The Beginning

Disclaimer: Sadly I own nothing of the Half-Life series. That all belongs to Valve. Any original characters here belong to me. 

A/N: First Half-Life story. Any feedback welcome. Also, I'm relatively new to the FanFiction text format, so please bare with me until I can fully figure it out. 

**July 1****st****, 2012 - 8:00a.m.**

**San Diego, California**

The morning was like any other morning. The clock went off at 8; it took several pushes of the snooze button before I finally was able to work up the energy to get out of bed. I sat up and looked around the room. There was a closet in one corner, clothes, books, and computer hardware spewing out, an average sized desk with a laptop on it in the other, and a 42 inch Plasma on the wall.

I turned my attention to the TV and turned it on. Channel 31, CNN, was the current channel. I stood up and slouched over to the bathroom and started the shower. I walked back into my room to set out my clothes when I noticed what was playing on CNN. Apparently a governmental research facility in New Mexico had suffered catastrophic damages and the U.S. Army was being sent in to clean up the mess.

I sat there and watched the news footage three more times. There was something about it that didn't seem right. Maybe it was because it was extremely odd to see a government accident of this magnitude on the news.

I got up and went to the bathroom to take my shower. I stepped out of the bathroom and put my clothes on. I walked over to my laptop and powered it up. After it turned on, I began typing an e-mail to a business associate of mine regarding our latest project – Zychpacillin, an extremely advanced treatment for Cancer.

It was at that time that I heard a knock on my door. I walked down stairs and opened the door. It was my friend Mitch.

Mitch was tall. 6'6'' to be precise. He had short blond hair, and dark blue eyes. He was wearing a black tee shirt with blue jeans and a pair of hiking boots. This was unusual. It wasn't like Mitch at all. He usually wore a white tee, board shorts, and flip flops. He had a small black bag with him.

"What's up man?" I asked "Come in."

Mitch bursts through the door and looks at me. "This is serious. This isn't good at all." He says, sounding scared.

"What's serious?" I ask

"This disaster in New Mexico; the research facility."

"What the hell is going on?" I ask, becoming increasingly worried.

"The research facility in New Mexico, Black Mesa I believe it's called. Have you seen the news lately?" He asks.

"Yeah, I saw something about that earlier. Something about an explosion."

"Well I have a friend there who was able to make it out alive and he says that what's going on underground is serious. As in 'end of the world' serious. I got a call from him earlier after he made it to the surface. He's hiding out in a small town in Arizona - Yuma - I was hoping you'd come with me to get him." Mitch said.

"Yeah, I'd be glad to help. Just let me get a few things first, okay? Wait here."

I walked back upstairs and into my room where I reached under my bed and pulled out a large, black case. I looked at the digital display for a second, and then I pushed the green enter button. The display came to life. "Please enter PIN" flashed on the screen. 0-4-2-1-9-3-7-1-1. I entered these numbers on the touch-pad and the latch on the case made a loud clicking noise. I opened the case and removed a Beretta 9mm handgun, two extra clips, a small amount of cash, and a satellite cell phone. I put the gun in my waistband, stuck the rest in my pockets and walked back downstairs.

"Okay, let's roll." I said.

As we were walking to the car, I said to Mitch "So how do you know this guy anyway?" He told me that he was a good friend of his dad's from collage, and that he used to help Mitch with his Math and Science homework when he was younger.

When we got to the parking space in the garage, I got in and started the jet black Humvee. Mitch followed soon thereafter.

I put the truck in gear and drove up the two ramps and through the exit of the parking garage. I made a right onto Pacific Coast Highway, and drove north to get on the freeway.

"So why do you need my help with this, anyway? I mean, you're only going to pick him up right?" I asked Mitch.

"When he called me, he told me that it'd probably be a good idea to bring some backup since by the time we get there, this thing most likely will have been blown way out of proportion. We need to stop and pick up Geoff, too."

"Okay." I said. "By the way, what is this guys name?"

"Gordon… Gordon Freeman." He replied.

Even though I'd never heard the name before in my life, I felt like I had. I don't know why. I shook off the thought as I pulled into our friend Geoff's driveway.

"You can stay here, I'll go get him." I volunteered.

"Alright." He said.

**July 1****st****, 2012 – 9:28a.m.**

**San Diego, California**

I walked up to the door and rang the bell. Nothing. I rang the bell once more. Again, nothing. It was at that time that I continuously started beating on the door.

Geoff finally opened the door.

Geoff was about your average height. He was about your average body type too. Everything about him screamed average except his brain. He was _extremely_ smart. Matter of fact, that's probably why he was coming along; for his brain. He had lengthy brown hair that seemed to curl on just the ends.

"What the fuck man? Its 9:30."

"Get your ass up, were going to Yuma."

"Yuma..? Why Yuma..? Who's we?? What the hell is going on?" He said.

He peered over my shoulder and saw Mitch in my Hummer.

"Dude, I'm not in the mood for a fucking road trip." He said, irritated.

He then began to shut the door, when I pushed my way into his living room.

"This isn't a fucking road trip. This is serious. I'm not sure what exactly is going on, but whatever it is, it's serious. Mitch came to my house this morning at about 8:30 frantic about the situation in New Mexico."

"What situation in New Mexico?" Geoff asked with a yawn.

I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on to CNN. He sat there for 5-6 minutes, just like I did, watching in awe. It was at about that time that Mitch walked in the front door.

"What the hell is taking you guys so long?" he asked.

"Geoff was sleeping." I replied.

"Dude, we have to go." Mitch said to us. "I don't know how much longer we have."

"Alright, alright. Geoff, get dressed and get your Glock. We'll be in the truck." I said.

Mitch and I walked back to the Hummer and got in. I turned the radio on to the local alternative station.

"I'm glad you think ahead… I completely forgot to tell you to get your gun." Mitch said to me.

"I take it you brought yours then." I said.

Mitch pulled out his Sig Sauer P239.

"Yup…"

"Great… guys driving down the highway armed to the teeth… Let's hope we don't get pulled over." I muttered.

Geoff then hopped into the backseat.

"Alright guys, I'm ready."

I put the car in gear, backed out of the driveway, and drove onto the highway.

A/N: Alright, I know there weren't many Half-Life references in that first chapter, but I promise more to come. Constructive criticism welcomed.


	2. Close to Yuma

Disclaimer: Sadly I own nothing of the Half-Life franchise. That belongs to Valve. Any original characters belong to me.

_A/N: Alright, I'm starting to get familiar with the format of this site. Also, the Seven Hour War will be featured in later chapters, after I "set up" the story. So without further a due, let's continue…_

**July 1****st****, 2012 10:30a.m.**

**San Diego, California**

We drove East down the freeway towards Yuma. Traffic was scarce. It was your typical Sunday. We sat in silence for most of the ride, with the occasional cough or sniffle. I switched lanes and took the overpass that led towards Yuma.

"So how much longer is this going to take?" Geoff asked.

I looked at Mitch.

"Oh!... Uh… about another hour I think." He said.

I took the exit from the freeway onto your cliché deserted desert road when the gas light flickered to life with a ding.

"Ah shit. I forgot to get gas in San Diego… Whatever. There's a gas station up here I think."

We drove for another ten minutes before I saw that gas station. I pulled in and drove up next to the pump.

"Mitch, will you just fill it up? I have to go in and pay." I asked.

"Sure thing man." He said as he got out of the car.

I walked over to the building and opened the door. It was small… very small… and dark.

"Hello?" I said.

Nothing…

It was weird. It was like something straight out one of those horror movies where the lone guy walks into the abandoned, run down store. I was half-expecting something to jump out at me. I pulled the Beretta from my waistband and started walking up and down the isles, making sure it was clear. The last spot I checked was the counter. No one was there. The entire store was empty. I activated the gas pump, grabbed a bag of Doritos and some water, and left the store.

"That's weird." I said "The store's abandoned."

"Huh." Mitch replied, seemingly uninterested.

"Hey, where's Geoff?" I asked.

Mitch pointed towards the road, and I saw Geoff standing there scoping the desert, hand on his brow to shield his eyes from the sun.

"I'll be right back." I said to Mitch.

I walked behind the gas station and looked around. Nothing much. An old rusted tool shed, some old tires, a few cinder blocks, an old toolbox, and a couple chairs. I walked over to the tool shed and looked at the door. A padlock held it securely shut. I looked around and finally found a screwdriver in the toolbox. As I began to jimmy the padlock open, a man comes running, screaming from behind the tool shed.

It stood like a man, but it had a large creature on its head, its stomach was torn open, ribcage showing, and it had large claws for hands.

"What the fuck!!!" I said and stumbled backwards

Unfortunately there was a cinder block in my way and I tripped and fell to the ground with a thud. The thing raised one of its claws, moaned a loud terrible moan, and was about to rip me apart when three loud gunshots rang out.

It happened in a split second: Three gunshots, the creatures head exploded, and it fell to the ground. I looked up to see Geoff standing there with the Glock at his side.

"What the fuck was that!?" He screamed.

"I have no fucking clue." I screamed back.

It was then that Mitch came running around the corner, his Sig drawn.

"What happened?" He said.

"Fuck if I know!" I said and pointed to the dead 'Zombie' on the ground.

"What the hell is that thing?" He asked.

"How the fuck should I know? I was trying to see what was in that shed," I said as I pointed to the tool shed. "And it just ran up on me from nowhere!"

I got up, brushed myself off, and went back to the Hummer.

"Let's get the hell out of here." I said.

I was just about to start the car when a military convoy flew by. Two Humvees, Two Jeeps, One huge semi truck with a flatbed trailer carrying military hardware, another semi with a regular trailer, two more Jeeps, and two more Humvees. They were going fast enough to leave a huge dust trail, which I was surprised we hadn't seen earlier.

"Hurry up guys, I wanna follow them." I said.

I put the car in gear and floored it to catch up. We followed them for another twenty minutes when the lead Hummers slammed on their brakes and swerved off the road. The rest of the convoy soon did the same thing.

As the last truck pulled off the road, I saw Yuma. It was devastating. Buildings were on fire, some completely gone. Smoke was rising in great black plumes above the city. Cars were lining the streets, abandoned, some were running. There were bodies, lots of bodies, in the streets. More of those Zombies, and some other things I'd never seen before were running amuck in the streets. Marines were running in squads on the streets, shooting at the unearthly creatures.

I pulled off the road next to the Military convoy and looked at the guys. Their faces were that of utter shock. Geoff couldn't stop staring at the city - Nor could Mitch. We got out and began walking towards the soldiers, when a huge explosion rocked the ground. It was insane. The noise from the blast was deafening. We looked back to see what had happened, and to our surprise, a building had exploded.

After my ears stopped ringing, I ran up to a soldier who was unpacking some communications gear to ask what was going on.

"Corporal Michael Slater, sir." I said saluting him, and showing him my ID.

Highly informal, but I felt it was necessary .

"At ease, Corporal. Why aren't you in uniform?" He said.

"I'm not part of this platoon, sir. Do you mind explaining what is going on?" I said.

"Corporal, you need to leave. Get back in your car and turn around." He said to me.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked

"Corporal, I said you need to leave. Get back in your car, turn around, and get as fucking far away from here as you can." He practically screamed at me.

"Listen, Capitan Evans," I said with a pause as I looked at the name on his uniform. "We have a friend trapped in that city, and we're not leaving without him. I'm sure you, a fellow Marine, can respect that. Now, you can either brief us on what is going on, or not. Either way we're going into that city." I said as I violently shoved a finger in the direction of Yuma.

"Listen Corporal, with all due respect, you're friend is probably dead by now. However I can see you're not going to back down, so here's the situation. At least as much as I can officially tell you. There was an incident in the New Mexican desert a few hours ago. That containment of that incident has failed, and it has now spread to other parts of the Midwest. I can't tell you what is in that city for the simple reason that I don't know myself, but what I can tell you is those Marines you see running around down there are on orders to shoot ANY living thing on site. Apart from other Marines of course; and since you're not in uniform, they won't distinguish you from a civilian. If you are serious about going into that city, then you need to stay out of sight, or you will be shot dead." He said.

"Listen, I'm not really supposed to do this," He said, looking around. "But since you _are _a Marine, I feel obligated."

He ran into the large semi-truck and came back out with a large, elongated box. The entire time, he was nervously looking around.

He walked past me and towards my Humvee, where he opened the back hatch, laid the case down, and opened it.

"M14 DMR; Designated Marksman's Rifle." He said, assembling all the pieces. "Do you know how to use one of these Corporal?" He asked.

Ironically, I happened to be in Scout Sniper training with the Marines.

"Yes, the M14 DMR, shoots a 7.62, effective up to a mile." I said as I took the rifle from him, locked the bolt open, slammed a magazine in the receiver, and slammed the bolt forward, with a smack.

He pulled out a small cylinder, as well as a medium sized box.

"This is the suppressor. I trust you know how to attach it." He said pointing to the cylinder.

"This is one hundred rounds of ammo. Ten magazines. Should be plenty." He said.

"This is greatly appreciated, Capitan." I said.

"No problem," He replied. "Just keep low and out of sight."

He did an about face and ran back to his communications gear. I swiftly disassembled the rifle, put everything back in the case, closed the hatch, and got in the drivers seat.

"Did you guys catch our conversation before he gave me the rifle?" I asked

"Yeah" Mitch replied.

"Good, then I trust I don't need to repeat anything." I said as I started the truck, put it into gear, and drove off towards the city.

_A/N: That's all for now. There will definitely be more to come. Sorry for the long wait, I got insanely busy with school. As always, constructive criticism is highly welcomed._


End file.
